Its official

P, fossil hunting.  He's pretty sure he found a dinosaur egg the other day.  

Well, its official.  We're homeschooling.  I know, I know.  I've been saying that for years ;)  And, living in a place and time where daycare for a two year old is called "school,"  that has seemed true.  But, according to New York State Law, this is our first official year as homeschoolers.  Whooohooo!

Of course, the paperwork would be due while we are out of town.  And the mail forwarding would make it impossible for us to get our forms in time.  But I think it came together ok.... (insert nervous pause)... and I guess I'll know for sure whenever we finally hear back from the central office of homeschooling...

And though most of his peers trundled off to ivory towers two years ago, everyone seems to now notice that the kid is not in school.  Until now, it was just slightly odd :)  And, thus, begins the questioning.

Mostly kind.  Honestly.  Occasionally prying.  And only occasionally accusatory.  But I've got my story straight.  My answers are short and simple and they even killed the lawyer-like approach of a recent neighbor's inquest.  She started quizzing P.  Then asking me about my "curriculum."  Then, my "credentials."  Ahhh, everyone is sooo sweet to watch out for my kid, just in case I am royally sucking.  

So I tossed out some umbrella comments about NYState's well defined curriculum requirements and answered to the affirmative that I, indeed, have taught school, real school ;)  Never mind that it was art.  To high schoolers.  It worked.  It shuts down lawyer types fast, these easy-peasy reassurances.  Then they tell the child how lucky he is!

A brief review of what the "lucky" kid has been up to (ok, well, a very small sampling of what the kid has been up to;)  during this first week of "school." 

His self-inspired science experiment.

Umm, earth sciences?

Art (duh)

Food Sciences and Horticulture :)

But my favorite, so far, was this little old lady at the rental car place this summer.  She tried to chat up an unusually grumpy P, who wasn't winning any points for proper appearance of socialization :)  But as they warmed to each other, he reported he'd be homeschooling and she told us a looong story.  About her great-niece.  In California.  Mother of 4.  Homeschooler.  "And at first, I thought she was just crazy.  I didn't know anything about it, see, and so I thought it must just be an awful thing to do to those children.  And then I started learning about it and, why, its amazing!  I just think you are such a lucky little boy."  

I love these moments.  Moments of open acceptance (about any subject, really.)  And the child has been so lucky, lucky that most of our "coming out" moments have been positive, like this one.  They breed such warm-fuzzy cocoons around his "lifestyle."  Which has to be reassuring once the school year starts and the streets are scarily empty during the day.  Do you remember the scene in "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" (one of P's favorite movies)?  When the family walks through that small Bavarian town and something seems terribly wrong?  And then they realize.... there are no children.  That's what its like when P and I venture out during the first half of the day during the school year.  Tall people everywhere.  The occasional baby, sure, but no kids.

Ahhh.  Well, except for the other homeschoolers ;)  A group to which we now officially belong.

Follow me....

We had a lovely, misty day this week, a rare treat amidst the extreme heat.  The kid and I giddily donned long sleeves and ambled about in the fields on wheels.  He's really digging his pedal bike.  And even getting into some bike maintenance (this rusty beauty has a trick pedal that the kid seems to feel very manly fixing :)  And since it was too cool to swim, we rode bikes with E that evening, too!

Mr. Fixit.

So I got a little action on film.  There are some misty splatters occasionally... but it was such a lovely light rain!!!  And I just had to attach this song by Mr.  Johnnie D. to something on the kid's blog.  At night, as we cuddle to sleep, the child tells me his thoughts and asks questions.   We've been apart a lot more this trip than every before.  Often, by his design (say, when its tired time and he decides he needs some "alone time" with Grams.  A Lot of alone time... Like, I'll just see you tomorrow, Mama, we're going to stay up all night kinda alone time!)  Sometimes, not by his design.  And then he tells me just how he feels about that (despite the huge amounts of fun procured, which seems to be a totally separate issue ;)  And, I swear to gawd, "Follow Me" would be his Mama ballad.  Scratch any romantic implications that Denver intended, and the words are all the Little Man....  

My two five year olds

Phoenix is a big fan of water squirting fun.  Feeling fabulous about tricking my father into using the non-working water shooter the other morning,  the kid somehow lost his upper hand and was drenched by a cackling grandaddy. 

My father, practically falling over from laughter.  The child, in flight mode.

 Backed into a corner with his dry dud, on the receiving end of a solid stream of wetness (the man showed no mercy:), as a last means of self-protection... the child chucked his whole honking water gun .  Hehe.  Fortunately, he missed Gramps' head :)  The diversion worked, but only momentarily.  Still in hot pursuit, my father chased the child around the yard...until Mama finally took pity on P (after cackling and, of course,  grabbing my camera) and handed the poor, wet kid the whole hose.   Tables turned, a stalemate was reached.  

Soooo Big

I swear the child has aged a year in the last two months.  It simultaneously makes my heart swell, and break.  When he choked on an ice cube at a family dinner a few weeks ago, his desperate little red face was heart wrenching.  After pounding him on the back, I reached down to embrace his sweet little form... and he pushed me away.  Returning to my seat, I glanced over to see his face, fighting tears, wanting to be held, but wanting even more, to keep his shit together.   Ethan later told me that it was more painful to watch him try to be strong than it was to watch him choke (which was no parade.)

We've never used the phrase "big boy" with him.  (Not even for his new bike - despite what I type for fun prose:)  Never pushed him to "act his age" or told him he couldn't do something anymore because he was "too big."  Just like pushing him to walk was never needed, we're thinking he'll become a man without parental taunting or shoving.  Its in his DNA.  And in his culture.  Especially in this culture, where the expectations laid at men's feet are huge, hairy beasts (reading "Real Boys" and Raising Cain" almost had me in tears over all of the unspoken shit boys shovel becoming men.  Most of it, wacked and entirely unnecessary.)  The kid is a kid, still.  Some days he feels big and strong, some days he wants to be held, a lot.  But, interestingly, these days, he's feeling big and strong, more and more....

Like yesterday, when E and I had an all day date.  We left after lunch and returned after a late dinner.  It was the longest we had seen each other in almost six years (and I am sending huge, huge thanks out to my family here!)  Unlike last year, the child did not cry when we mentioned running errands without him.  He chose to stay behind.  Then, when invited to go to a museum with Uncle Cash and Aunt Maria, he said yes.   There was a brief pause, as he requested we go with him, but after we mentioned errands again, he was back on board, with a grin.  As we started to leave, he skipped about the house, happily.  Then he would run to my side and ask me to stay.  Then he would be ok again and bounce off.  As we headed out the door, he followed us out, right to the car, reiterating his thoughts about us staying behind. I reminded him we were getting party prep for Gramps' bday.  He nodded and stepped back from the car with a little wave.  As we pulled away, we saw his face crunch up for a second, his little foot kick the grass, and then he turned and walked away.  When we returned (to him, scrunched up in his play house with my mother:), he'd had a splendid day:)  Without us.

And that goodbye seems to pretty much sum up this stage.

Then, I snapped this pic the other day.  We were out exploring the fields in the hundred degree heat, when he hopped out to toss a few rocks.  He looked so old standing there.  His shoulders more square, his stance more cocky, his face in a picture ready pose.  I know he's only five, but I look at this pic and feel like its only a second before he heads off to college... or whatever he ends up doing (small sob;)

Wheeeee!

Ever since P's pals started pedaling around town, the child has had a hankering for a new bike.  Problem was, pedal bikes weigh about eight gazillion pounds more than the kid's featherweight running bike... and the child frequently feels uninterested, er, "too tired," to pedal his little butt up the big hill home, thereby making Mama schelp the child and the featherweight running bike up the hill.  After all, in New York, bikes are built for transportation, not just recreation, and the days of pointlessly piddling about in the driveway are just distant parental memories...

But in Kansas, the grands have a huge, long drive, with nary a cab.  And so the child set his sights on a big boy bike.  We swung by the thrift shop and found a sweet, small (but freakin' heavy - why always the ridiculous weight?!?!) pedal bike with one loose training wheel dangling from its rusty back.  The child made sure the shop kept the training wheel, that was not part of his picture :)  A little grease and a tire pump and the kid was ready to ride.  

I vividly remember my father helping me learn to ride, sans trainers.  Him pushing me down the street as I pedaled my heart out aboard my banana seat with streamers.  I was looking forward to an afternoon of pushing and running, building beautiful memories.  But, true to recent independent form, I was relatively unnecessary.  I gave him a great shove (I didn't even grab my camera, so sure was I that I'd have numerous occasions that afternoon to document the momentous occasion) and.... off he went.  Down the drive.  He even knew how (somehow?!) to brake.  

Fancy tricks

And so the child spent the rest of the afternoon racing around, up and down the long drive, around the circle trees, back to the barn, his little legs pumping madly, his cheeks bright pink.  Unfortunately, the video was only finally thought of once the action had become a bit blase, performed for Papa's sake (on his lunch break) by a  kid who was a bit distracted by Uncle Cash, returning home.  But you can get the general gist, the child feels pretty comfy on his bike :)

You know you've tapped your red heels when...

We've had a lot of "we're not in New York Anymore" moments so far.  And it is certainly reminding me that my son is, thus far, a native New Yorker, not a Kansan.

Like when we were driving down the street and P piped up from the back booster seat, "Don't they have sidewalks around here?"

Or when we went to the absolutely, positively most ginormous grocery store known to mankind and found this:

After the teensy, tiny, crowded shops in New York, we were goofy-giddy in this grocery store.  E and I laughed so hard (silently, of course, lest the child fix us with his death glare for feeling commented upon:) as the child screeched his way through the enormous and empty aisles.  We were only buying matches, but that didn't stop us from pushing our put-put cart miles, to much glee from the tot.  

There are also lots of bugs.   Not just cockroaches and fruit flies :)  And, thus, the child's nature shelf grows every day.  His dead bug collection has reached new heights...

Cicada shells jet to join dragon fly bodies, lady bug remains and wasp wings.

And then there's the John Deere itself.  The property is huge and the child loves to, very seriously, drive his vehicle to his next destination.  He, adamantly, attempts to give everyone rides.   I love watching how seriously he takes his driving responsibilities :)

The joy of harvesting is huge, too:

Then there's the wildlife, on the way to the market...

And then there are the endless experiments, not as readily doable in an urban setting.  Like, attempting to fry eggs on the sidewalk (er, driveway, but we already mentioned the shortage of sidewalks, so...)  P read a book months ago that inspired this and then remembered his grand country plans last week.  And, no, it was not hot enough :)

It is so much fun experiencing various moments of culture shock in my home-town through my kid's eyes.  And just seeing the things most rural and suburban kids take for granted as these great gifts.  He is loving the s-p-a-c-e here and the chance to sing loudly and run and bounce above absolutely no one at all.  He has no interest in leaving the property.  Yet, if he must, he declares how much he loves cars, not subways.  And, when asked if he was missing his house or New York, he instantly replied, "Nope!"   So, it might be different, but it looks to have been an easy transition for the kid :)

The Elements

P seems to be in heaven here.  Our time, so far, basically consists of running around outside in the insane heat, barely dressed, or eating.  Its highly reminiscent of my childhood.  Out to explore bugs and dirt, a hop in the pool for endless splashing, out of the pool for food and running in the grass (barefoot, of course, all play in Kansas has to occur without shoes it seems), then back into the pool again...  (The kid swims three times a day- usually getting in an extra belly flop with E after work.)  And the Little Man has decided he is completely over his swimsuit with floaties (his internal tug of war with growing up is palpable these days), so he primarily plays in the buff.  Which can make for a pretty pink patooshkie by the end of a raft laden afternoon....

When he isn't waterlogged, he's playing with fire.  Literally.  He found some matches in my mom's drawer and was instantly entranced.  When we went to the store to get him some, true to midwestern sizes and the large storage expanses everyone has here, the flame starters were only available in a three pack.  With three hundred matches in each box.   The child was thrilled.

The child, digging a safety fire pit in the field.  Little BB lays nervously to the side.

We settled on a terra-cotta pot to contain the flames...

As of tonight, he has burned through a whole box.  He will sit and flick fire with match after match after match, only pausing to find more dry leaves.  I'm not sure exactly what he's processing here, but it seems the child should be finished with the "fire safety" part of the NYC school regs by now...